course for the tiny detail that the hooker of choice was the night manager in disguise, but hey. As long as everyone was happy, where was the harm, right?
Right. Pat nodded decisively, high-fived himself for good luck, and quickly popped into the employee bathroom to check his hair and make sure nothing was caught in his teeth. He also took the opportunity to settle his baseball cap at a slightly more rakish angle, and even smoothed some wrinkles from his t-shirt.
He could so do this. Andersen would never even know what hit him. Figuratively speaking, of course.
~~~~~
“I f you had to spend a year on a deserted island with no company and no access to technology, but with sufficient food, water and shelter,” said Nicholas Andersen, aka Silver Paladin, dark eyes fixed on Pat with unwavering intensity. “Provided you could choose any three objects of reasonable size to bring to the island, which objects would you choose?”
Wow, the man was a complete freakshow.
“You are a complete freakshow, man,” Pat informed him. He couldn’t help the hint of admiration that crept into his voice alongside the censure. Come on, this much fail didn’t just happen by chance; it was, like, an achievement. “For starters, what does ‘of reasonable size’ mean? Way too much wiggle room, here. Because, right, I choose a fitness center, which is totally reasonable. Gotta stay in shape, you know. And an Olympic sized swimming pool. And for my last choice, the university library. The main one, not one of those department thingies. You’re not sticking me with the microbiology department’s library or some shit like that.”
Andersen snorted impatiently, rolling his eyes as though Pat had been the one to come up with this silly scenario and then fail to offer proper parameters. “Single objects lesser or equivalent to an average elephant in size or mass, whichever is greater.”
“Indian or African elephant? Plus, elephants aren’t single objects any more than gyms and libraries are. They’re assembled from all sorts of parts, like livers and kidneys and tusks and ears. You really didn’t think this one through, did you, bro.”
Pat was just messing with the dude at this point, but Andersen was looking increasingly irritated and a bit nonplussed, which was a dozen kinds of hilarious. There was pretty much no way to resist messing with someone so serious.
Not the most by-the-book approach to his revered employer, perhaps. But whatever, the man would have to deal. Pat wasn’t about to start being all serving hearty at this late stage. Certainly not just because he was about to be paid obscene amounts of money for having sex with a hot guy. Again.
Man, Pat’s life. So hard, right? Heh.
When Andersen opened his mouth, hesitated briefly, and made as though to actually specify his ‘marooned on a deserted island’ parameters, Pat waved a hand to cut him off. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Because the first thing I would want to take would be BadMadRad’s new limited edition album. Get it?”
Incredibly, to judge by the blank face and empty look, Andersen did not get it at all. And Pat had been totally impressed at himself for slipping in the reference to his tragically lost album so naturally, too.
Pat stared at the dude in mute disgust for almost a full minute before breaking. “Seriously? I’m not even getting an ‘I fucked up, sorry about that’? Man, you suck so hard. I can’t take Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Ho to my deserted island because of your botched rescue, and all I get from you is a cow-eyed look?”
For a reputed genius, the gears in Andersen’s head turned painfully slowly. Pat was tempted to go over there and help by cranking a lever of some kind.
Maybe there was some kind of convention where hookers and johns pretended they were strangers if they ran into each other in a non-hooking context. Was that why the dude looked so blindsided — because Pat should not have mentioned that whole rescuing
Right. Pat nodded decisively, high-fived himself for good luck, and quickly popped into the employee bathroom to check his hair and make sure nothing was caught in his teeth. He also took the opportunity to settle his baseball cap at a slightly more rakish angle, and even smoothed some wrinkles from his t-shirt.
He could so do this. Andersen would never even know what hit him. Figuratively speaking, of course.
~~~~~
“I f you had to spend a year on a deserted island with no company and no access to technology, but with sufficient food, water and shelter,” said Nicholas Andersen, aka Silver Paladin, dark eyes fixed on Pat with unwavering intensity. “Provided you could choose any three objects of reasonable size to bring to the island, which objects would you choose?”
Wow, the man was a complete freakshow.
“You are a complete freakshow, man,” Pat informed him. He couldn’t help the hint of admiration that crept into his voice alongside the censure. Come on, this much fail didn’t just happen by chance; it was, like, an achievement. “For starters, what does ‘of reasonable size’ mean? Way too much wiggle room, here. Because, right, I choose a fitness center, which is totally reasonable. Gotta stay in shape, you know. And an Olympic sized swimming pool. And for my last choice, the university library. The main one, not one of those department thingies. You’re not sticking me with the microbiology department’s library or some shit like that.”
Andersen snorted impatiently, rolling his eyes as though Pat had been the one to come up with this silly scenario and then fail to offer proper parameters. “Single objects lesser or equivalent to an average elephant in size or mass, whichever is greater.”
“Indian or African elephant? Plus, elephants aren’t single objects any more than gyms and libraries are. They’re assembled from all sorts of parts, like livers and kidneys and tusks and ears. You really didn’t think this one through, did you, bro.”
Pat was just messing with the dude at this point, but Andersen was looking increasingly irritated and a bit nonplussed, which was a dozen kinds of hilarious. There was pretty much no way to resist messing with someone so serious.
Not the most by-the-book approach to his revered employer, perhaps. But whatever, the man would have to deal. Pat wasn’t about to start being all serving hearty at this late stage. Certainly not just because he was about to be paid obscene amounts of money for having sex with a hot guy. Again.
Man, Pat’s life. So hard, right? Heh.
When Andersen opened his mouth, hesitated briefly, and made as though to actually specify his ‘marooned on a deserted island’ parameters, Pat waved a hand to cut him off. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Because the first thing I would want to take would be BadMadRad’s new limited edition album. Get it?”
Incredibly, to judge by the blank face and empty look, Andersen did not get it at all. And Pat had been totally impressed at himself for slipping in the reference to his tragically lost album so naturally, too.
Pat stared at the dude in mute disgust for almost a full minute before breaking. “Seriously? I’m not even getting an ‘I fucked up, sorry about that’? Man, you suck so hard. I can’t take Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Ho to my deserted island because of your botched rescue, and all I get from you is a cow-eyed look?”
For a reputed genius, the gears in Andersen’s head turned painfully slowly. Pat was tempted to go over there and help by cranking a lever of some kind.
Maybe there was some kind of convention where hookers and johns pretended they were strangers if they ran into each other in a non-hooking context. Was that why the dude looked so blindsided — because Pat should not have mentioned that whole rescuing
Similar Books
